


Souls For Wishes

by Branithar



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Demon Deals, Homelessness, M/M, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Supernatural Elements, Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branithar/pseuds/Branithar
Summary: After a war left them in pieces, Luke, Michael and Calum were left on the streets to fend for themselves. Every day is a struggle until a deal with a demon changes everything.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating and tags subject to change as I write.

Luke drew his worn blanket tight around his shoulders, shivering despite the weather. Five years ago, he would’ve called it warm, but near-constant hunger since coming home had him wasting away and his body couldn’t warm itself the way it used to anymore. 

“Spare change?” Michael implored someone, offering his empty can. 

Luke marveled at how he was still so optimistic after all this time, thinking that everyone who passed them might still be generous enough to offer them a single desnei after all these years. They had been at first, when the war was still fresh in their minds, but they’d slowly forgotten what hard times were like and started demanding that they get over themselves and work for food like everyone else. 

Luke looked at the faded sign between him and Michael, the words **SPARE SOME CHANGE FOR THREE INJURED VETERANS?** scrawled over it. It used to say five, but in a bad winter two of their old comrades had died of pneumonia. As much as he missed Lachie and Rozza, Luke had been silently glad that they didn’t have to split whatever they made every day five ways anymore. They all would’ve starved a long time ago. 

“Spare change?” Michael asked a passing woman. 

To Luke’s surprise, she actually stopped to rummage through her purse.

“Thank you for your service!” she said, dropping two coins into Michael’s can. 

“Thank _you,_ miss!” As she walked away, Michael shook the coins into his hand and gave them to Calum. 

“Three desnei,” Calum said, running his fingers over them, “We could get some potatoes.” 

Luke scoffed. That’s what they got for their “service.” That’s what they got for being forced to leave home and fight for their country’s right to steal from foreign farmers. That’s what they got for losing half a leg, two eyes and all sense of mental stability so that rich people could have more energy to power their lights. 

Some well-dressed aristocrat passed without so much as looking at them, heading straight for the fountain in the middle of the square. Luke watched him toss a coin into it and walk back, again not sparing them a glance . 

“Fucking cunt,” Luke mumbled darkly, “He’d rather throw a coin into a fountain for some tiny wish than give it to people who actually need it. How selfish do you have to be?”

“Probably doesn’t have much of a soul anymore,” Calum murmured, “They say every time a well demon grants you a wish it takes a bit of your soul as payment.” 

“You reckon there’s a demon in that fountain?” Michael asked. 

“There always is.” Calum’s pale eyes flickered to him. “That one’s gotta be pretty good at it for people to keep throwing coins in.” 

“Might grab a handful of them tonight,” Michael said, his eyes fixed on the fountain. 

“The Watch’ll cut off your hands if they catch you,” Luke replied, “You know how rich people are about shit like wishing fountains. How are you gonna eat then?”

“I’ll buy myself new hands with all the money I swiped,” Michael said with a grin, “Get some with fancy engraved plating.” 

“You couldn’t buy prosthetic hands with the money in there,” Luke scoffed. 

“I bet you could,” Michael argued, “How much do you reckon is in there?” 

They fell silent, watching someone else throw a coin in. They could probably feed themselves for weeks with the money at the bottom of the fountain. 

“At least three hundred and sixty seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty desnei,” Calum said. 

Luke looked at him. “What?” 

“You guys used to complain about someone making a wish every few minutes whenever we came out here, so on average a coin might be thrown in every five minutes from morning to night,” he explained, “It’ll be more on busy days, but it’s probably an average of one hundred and forty four coins a day. Three hundred and sixty five days in a year means fifty two thousand, five hundred and sixty coins. The fountain was built about seven years ago, which makes three hundred and sixty seven thousand, nine hundred and twenty desnei. That doesn’t account for people who throw in higher value coins and one hundred and forty four wishes a day is a _really_ conservative guess, but that’s the minimum of how much would probably be in there assuming idiots like you aren’t going in every night and grabbing a few handfuls.” 

“Wow.” 

“Imagine all the shit you could buy with that,” Michael wistfully murmured. He held his can up to someone passing with a fresh pie. 

Luke stared after them, the scent making him salivate at the thought of taking just one bite of the dripping gravy and meat. Maybe stealing from the fountain wasn’t such a bad idea. He sold his guitar a long time ago, so how much did he really need his hands?


	2. Chapter 2

Luke stuck to the shadows, eyes scanning the streets for patrolling watchmen. He snuck to a shop entrance, stilling as a guard meandered past. When she’d disappeared down a street, he ran to the fountain, trying not to overthink the familiarity in the anxious racing of his heart. He fell to his knees at the edge, head whipping around for any indication that he’d been seen and listening for the shouts of an angry watchman. 

Satisfied that he was alone, Luke reached into the water for the thousands of glittering coins at the bottom. He frowned. The fountain was deeper than it looked. His elbow slipped under the surface, the rest of his arm following until he was nearly up to his shoulder in icy water. 

At last, his hand found the coins and he grasped a handful. Glancing around, he pulled his arm back but was stopped by something grabbing his wrist. A hand was reaching out from the coins, gripping tightly. Luke tried to pull free, but the hand squeezed his wrist until it hurt and he was forced to drop the coins. The hand loosened, but didn’t let go, and as he drew his arm back it followed. More coins shifted at the bottom of the fountain and a face appeared, distorted by the surface of the water. Shit. 

The demon rose out of the fountain until it was standing, its eyes on Luke’s in a cold glare as water dripped from its curly hair. It looked like a human, white short-sleeve shirt half unbuttoned to reveal a couple of necklaces and tucked into soaked black trousers. Luke stared back at it, unsure of what to say. 

The demon spoke first. “I run around all day granting wishes for shitty humans,” it murmured dangerously, “Just to come home and find you trying to steal from me in the night.” 

Luke tried to jerk his hand away, but it still wouldn’t let go. 

“I should drown you,” the demon told him. 

Luke’s stomach twisted. “No.”

“Why not?”

“My friends need me, “ he pleaded, “Michael can barely walk and Calum _can’t_ without someone helping him. If I die, they’ll have no one.” 

“I don’t care about your friends.” The demon regarded him for a moment. “Why don’t you make a wish?” 

“You’ll twist it,” Luke bit, “If I wish to never be hungry again you’ll poison the next thing I eat and kill me.”

The demon rolled its eye. “I’m a demon, not a genie. People wouldn’t make wishes if I granted them with loopholes.” 

Luke thought for a moment. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Well demons don’t do contracts, we grant wishes.” 

“I wish to make a deal with you.” 

The demon stared at him disbelievingly for a moment before, snorting and doubling over in laughter, never letting his wrist go. Luke glanced around nervously, wondering what would happen if someone saw them. He was surprised no watchmen had passed already. 

“That’s dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard!” the demon laughed as it straightened up, trying to stop smiling, “What, pray tell, would this deal entail?”

“You grant wishes for pieces of people’s souls, right? If you grant me any wish I want free of charge until me and my friends are rich, you can have my whole soul.” 

“Your friends, Michael and Calum?”

“Yeah.” 

Though it was still smiling, the demon looked thoughtful. “Every wish has to contribute to your goal,” it said, “And I can’t do big things like have someone hand you a bunch of gold bars tomorrow or kill someone and I’m only obligated to grant one wish a day. I won’t try to hurt either of them, but if Michael or Calum die, the contract stays in place for you and whoever is still alive. If you die before the contract is complete, I still get your soul.” 

Luke stared. “You’ll do it?” 

The demon shrugged, grinning. “Why not?” 

Luke exhaled. This had to be the worst idea he’d ever had aside from not trying harder to dodge the draft. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“You can call me Ashton,” the demon replied, “Do we have a deal, Luke?” 

Luke nodded. “Deal.” 

Ashton put a cold hand on the back of his neck, leaning close. “Let’s seal it, then.” 

Luke leaned forward, his lips meeting the demon’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I supposed to not sneak in a Lashton kiss at the first opportunity?


	3. Chapter 3

Michael noticed the necklace Ashton had given Luke the night before almost immediately. 

“What’s that?” he asked as he pushed himself up from his bedroll, peering at the glinting chain around Luke’s neck. 

Calum held Michael’s crutches out to him. “What’s what?” 

“Luke’s wearing a necklace,” Michael explained, taking the crutches. 

Frowning, Calum reached out to Luke and felt along his shoulder until his fingers found the silver links. 

“I found it,” Luke lied. 

“Or stole it,” Michael scoffed, “When did you get it? Did you go out last night?” 

Luke nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“You gonna sell it?” Calum asked. 

“No, I…I wanna keep it.” 

Michael shrugged. “Looks good on you.” 

If they were annoyed that Luke wasn’t going to sell it to buy food for them all, Michael and Calum didn’t show it. They’d already tried selling all their earthly possessions to survive before, it still left them all miserable and a bad week away from death. 

As they left the shelter, Calum holding onto Luke’s arm as Michael hopped ahead, Luke touched the necklace and wondered what his first wish should be for. Should he use it now or wait in case he needed it later today? 

Michael’s stomach gurgled loudly and Luke quietly wished they could have enough food to satisfy them, all thoughts of using his wish wisely disappearing as the metal warmed for a moment. 

Calum huffed. “Yeah, me too,” he said bitterly, “Can’t remember what a full stomach even feels like.” 

As they took their places in the square, the glittering fountain making Luke feel oddly apprehensive, he took the sign and their cans out of his drawstring pack. As he passed everything out, he felt the hair on the back of his neck and looked up, stomach lurching when he made eye contact with Ashton. He was leaning against a wall at the opposite side of the square, expression unreadable from this distance. 

“What are you looking at?” Michael asked. 

Luke started. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

“Excuse me.” 

Luke looked up at the woman standing in front of him, recognising her from the bakery. His eyes fell on the basket she held, mouth watering as he caught the scent of meat pies. 

“These are overcooked,” she told him, “I can’t sell them.” 

Michael shuffled closer to Calum, eyes fixed on the basket. “Really.” 

“I, um...” She held the basket out to Luke. “Maybe you could do with some fresh food?” 

Head spinning, Luke took the basket and stared at the various pastries inside. Most of them had scorch marks, but the smell of burning did nothing to diminish the dizzying scent of hot gravy and sweet fruit. 

“Thank you,” Calum blurted, “Thank you so much, you don’t even know how grateful we are.” 

Luke missed the woman’s reply, barely registering her retreat to her shop as he carefully lifted out some kind of tart, almost afraid that it was going to turn to dust in his hands. Michael snatched the basket from his lap, not hesitating to dig into a sausage roll. 

“Are there meat pies?” Calum asked faintly as if in disbelief. 

Luke shook himself and guided Calum’s hand to one before sinking his teeth into the tart and feeling his eyes well up. He hadn’t tasted anything like this since he left for the war. Even as his hunger demanded that Luke wolf it down and move on to the next pastry he could grab from the basket, he chewed slowly, savouring every single bite until it was gone. 

Michael groaned. “I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

Luke froze and looked at him and the burned danish in his hands, then at Ashton. He thought about what he’d said about not granting wishes with loopholes. Ashton now had Luke’s soul promised, regardless of whether Luke ever actually made another wish again. Would he attach strings to them just to play with him, knowing that Luke didn’t have much choice but to keep wishing and hoping that Ashton would play fair? 

“I have to go,” Luke said, standing, “Stretch my legs.” 

“Might as well,” Calum replied through a mouthful of food, “Don’t have to save your energy for once.” 

As Luke made for a side street, he subtly beckoned for Ashton to follow. He nodded back and Luke felt paranoid that Michael somehow saw the interaction. Luke didn’t need him asking about it, didn’t know if he could come up with a convincing lie. He and Calum couldn’t know what he’d done. What if they freaked out or rejected help from a demon? 

This early in the morning, there weren’t many people around and it was easy to find a private place to speak with Ashton, though when Luke looked back he realised that he hadn’t followed him. He contemplated going back to the square, but didn’t want Michael to see him with Ashton. 

“What’s up?” Ashton asked. 

Luke spun around, heart racing. “ _Fuck._ ” He willed himself not to freak out, aware that the jumpscare had put him on the edge of a panic attack. “Did you poison them?” he demanded. 

“The food? No, of course not. I was able to make her burn them, but she would never poison them.” Ashton narrowed his eyes. “I already told you I don’t twist wishes.” 

“Why is Michael sick?” 

“He ate too much.” 

“No he didn’t. I’ve seen him eat way more than that.”

“What, five years ago? He’s starving. You all are. You just can’t eat as much as you used to be able to.” 

Luke frowned. 

“If you keep wishing for food, you’ll eventually get your appetites back,” Ashton promised, “It’s not something I can fix in a day, though.” 

“Is Michael gonna be okay?” Luke asked. 

Ashton nodded. “He just ate too fast.” 

Luke exhaled. “Okay. Thanks.” 

“No need to thank me. I’m doing this for your soul.” He turned to a large puddle in the middle of the street and stepped into it. “See you tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I run tran5rightsos on Tumblr! Feel free to send asks about this or any of my other 5sos fics!
> 
> Comments are always welcome.


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